Time to Invest in an Epi-Pen

Does anyone remember the episode of Sex and the City where Carrie is trying on wedding dresses and gets a heinous skin rash as a result? Possibly because of the dress, but more likely because the idea of the committment causes a physio-dermal reaction. Funny, right?

WELL NOT SO MUCH.

To be fair, I certainly wasn't trying on wedding dresses for fun (because that sounds more horrifying than awesome) but instead was at a very small, friend-of-the-family-type barbeque that I was invited to for the purpose of meeting some boy. Now, you might be asking yourself "Why would this be distressing?" And to be fair, it shouldn't be. But between running into an old interest of mine earlier in the week and damn near hyperventilating at the encounter, giving my phone number out to someone I barely know, and then putting myself into a SOCIAL situations, where STRANGERS and BOYS might be present, my unconscious had had enough. After about an hour and a half, I started feeling that my left shoulder was mysteriously itching, and that my arms were getting increasingly hot; I felt my face flushing and when I finally thought to look down and saw that I had broken out in massive welts and hives all over.

So there you have it. I'm Carrie to the seventh degree. I don't even have to have the threat of concrete commitment looming and I can prematurely panic the point of physical reaction, thereby allowing me to flee the situation. Just try and tell me that isn't some sort of evolutionary engineering.

Did You Know?

Did you know that I haven't blogged since 2008?

Also, did you know that since then I've moved from Provo to a new home in Lehi? Lehi!

Did you know that I visited Cindi in Portland? Did you know that in that weekend I saw more subaru's than I have in my entire life?


Did you know that I went skiing with my Dad last month and got sick while halfway up the mountain? Did you know I had to ride down the rest of the way on the emergency snow machine?

Did you know that Thanksgiving Point has somehow taught the local deer to read signs?

Did you know that after I had a pedicure yesterday my pedicure-ist asked me if I wanted to have my eyebrows waxed? And that after I continually tried to tell her I couldn't because of a skin allergy she said "fine - whatever, it's your face." Can you believe that?

Did you know that I have woken up every morning for the past week with my blanket turned around a perfect 90 degrees on my bed? Don't you think that's weird?

Did you know that the girls and I participated in the Race for the Cure? Did you know that it is a fantastic event/cause and I think you should do it next year?

Finally, do you know how hard it is to try and remember 5 months of events? Seriously, you guys. It's like I have no memories.

Sometimes I Just Can't Decide

Now that the month of December is nearly over, I’ve taken some time to consider the various aspects of Christmas celebration. The fact of the matter is this: I have a love/hate relationship with some parts of the month. Let’s examine, shall we?


I saw “It’s a Wonderful Life” performed by the Odyssey Dance Theater. I love the world!

In the modern version of Frank Capra’s classic tale, Pottersville features old Mrs. Bailey as a casino worker and Violet is spotlighted as a pole dancer. I hate the world.

There is Christmas music playing at all times. It is cheery and I find it acceptable to sing along in public for the month, I love the world!

FM100 plays a majority of the music heard throughout the state, and a majority of the non-stop playlists feature Amy Grant’s “Breath of Heaven,” Michael Bolton’s “Christmas Shoes,” and anything by Kenny G. I hate the world.

The Festival of Trees comes to town! There are teddy bear trees, there are BYU trees, there are many twinkling lights in a giant room, I love the world!

There are gingerbread houses made in the likeness of the “Twilight” books and University of Utah Christmas trees. I hate the world. So much.

I love the Mormon Tabernacle Choir! What a great month, they are everywhere singing everything! There are devotionals, concerts, recordings going on all of the time and my Mom is a superstar! I love the world!

Brian Stokes Mitchell thinks he is the superstar of the Christmas concert. He’s not, my Mom is. I hate the world and Brian Stokes Mitchell.

I love baking; holiday treats in particular are my favorite. Stores sell pretty colored candies, chocolate is dirt cheap, seasonal sales abound. I love the world!

After anonymously leaving cookies for an older couple, I remember that are diabetic. I really hate myself, and the world too.

Christmas means there is snow in Utah. Snow is pretty and makes it feel more like Christmas than just another global-warming-affected December. I love the world!

Christmas means there is snow in Utah. Snow makes is feel like a frozen tundra and makes it impossible to drive to my beloved Las Vegas bowl featuring my beloved Cougars. I HATE THE WORLD.

Christmas is in less than a week and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I love the world.

What I Dream About: Part 2

So this sleep business is not getting any better. I wake up every morning exhausted because I sabotage myself in the middle of the night. My week in brief:

Monday: Joyce hears me from another room talking loudly. My subconscious thoughts? "Fish?!? I LOVE IT!!!"
Note: I hate fish.

Tuesday: I (sleep) walk into the front room and then kitchen on my house making sure that my roommates, myself, and another person who doesn't actually live at my house have a place to sleep comfortably. I sit on the couch for a while; I only know because that's where I woke up. SITTING UP on the living room couch.

Wednesday: I again wake up somewhere other than in bed. In fact I am STANDING UP in the corner of my kitchen and am freaked when I jolt awake.

Thursday: I remember standing up and walking to the closet in my bedroom. After that, no idea. I wake up with most of my clothes taken off of their hangers and distributed into two piles on my bedroom floor. And they aren't even color coordinated, the shame.

I guess this really isn't about the dreams I had this week, but clearly something off. This is getting ridiculous.

It Began at 9:00 AM

We left on Wednesday morning with literally no plans as to what we were going to do or where we were going to sleep once we landed in Honolulu. Our three-hour layover in San Francisco went like this:

• It is boring to sit in the airport for any amount of time so we left and jumped on the BART for a quick ride into the city where we had a lunch and then turned around to go back to the airport.


• After boarding the plane, the pilot announced over the loudspeaker that everyone was going to have to deboard so that he could perform some maintenance before taking off. Naturally, this does not support feelings of safety or wellbeing. Within two minutes of leaving our very-last-row seats on the plane we were able to board again.
  
• The highlight of this experience is when a woman began running through the connecting terminal-hallway towards the plane and upon skipping down the declined area, tripped over her husband, fell, and headed downhill a few feet before coming to a stop. She looked like a Yankee coming into third base, unnecessary slide and all. It sounds worse than it actually but rest assured that she jumped up quickly and was laughing as hard as we were. I have high hopes that that particular scene will end up on Youtube at some point, it was just that good.
  

We arrived in Oahu at 5:30 in the evening. Luckily, Tamara and Hannah are finishing up school at BYU Hawaii and were cool enough to grab us from the airport and transport us the hour or so drive to the North Shore where we planned on spending the most time. And even though they don’t read this, there must be a major shout-out to both of these girls; they are some of the best people I’ve met and were so much fun to hang out with, even when it required them, uh, falling ill and not being able to make it into school/internship/work for a few days. Truly this is a testament to the awesomeness that is hanging out at the beach on a Monday afternoon.

When we arrived in Laie that first night we decided to stay at the Laie Inn where the motto is surely “Screw the condition of the rooms – you’re in Hawaii.” After I checked the walls to make sure there was no visible blood or hidden camera peepholes, I went to sleep for a few hours until the 4 hour time difference caught up with me at 4:30 am. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad – I’ve definitely had worse experiences in hostels and once in an Econo-Lodge in South Dakota.

The next morning was great - Corey and I crossed paths as he was coming back from a walk to the beach and I was heading out and when we met back at the room, it was discovered that the door wouldn’t open to either of our magnetic key-cards. After a few trips to the front desk, it was determined that the (hung over) maintenance guy was going to need to take a look at the door and try to get it open. It had, of course, a bigger problem than he was able to fix so after prying the screen off of one of the windows, our newfound pal Dave from South Carolina was able to break into the room and unlock the door from the inside out. It feels good to know just how easy it is to break into those rooms.

Shortly after, we checked out and said goodbye to Laie Inn in hopes that we would find someone a little more hospitable. A highlight of cold-calling rental signs was when I talked to a guy who was renting an apartment of his house long term, not just as a vacation rental. I think that he must have been pretty hard up for some extra cash this month because after learning that we were only looking for something for a few days, he told me that he would be willing to prorate the monthly rental amount and would probably be able to “find an air mattress or something” for us to sleep on in the unfurnished house. I have reasonable fears that his final offer to seal the deal would have been for us to sleep on his couch for $20 a night as well as a shared bathroom with himself as a temporary roommate. Luckily for us, after taking a drive along the Kam highway calling signs we found a decent studio that had a beautiful beach access and the right price. It was tiny, rocked a kitchenette, that looked like this:



But it looked like this outside:

The small reef on the beach really was pretty and I loved waking up every morning and heading down just to watch the water for a while. This proved to be a good place to stay and I’m happy that we ended up there for the rest of the week.

After having settled on a place to dump our stuff, we headed to the first beach of the week, Waimea. We ended coming back to this same beach at least once a day because it is such a great beach and has good waves. I won’t be putting up any pictures from these first days because I can’t guarantee that all of you are wearing sunglasses and I would hate for my glaring whiteness to cause any permanent damage to your vision. Rest easy though; the white only lasted a few hours before it turned to a nice glowing sunburn. It is just so good to be pale and freckled, you don’t even know.

A highlight of the first day at the beach was happened while I was trying to get back into the swing of the waves; anyone in my family can attest to the fact that I am hands-down the best wave boarder, it’s a skill of little use that I generally take a lot of pride in. Unfortunately, I was caught off guard by a massive double-break wave that not only knocked me over, but also pulled me back and did it twice in a row. I have never had the breath knocked out of me before and it was a weird experience to have it happen under water for the first time. While I was working on being able to breathe all I could think about were the warnings that the lifeguards had been announcing that morning about dangerous surf and the high volume of back and spinal injuries that had occurred on this particular beach. Luckily, everything seemed all right by the next morning and I didn’t have to continually wiggle my fingers and toes to make sure I could feel them.

I know that even if I had successfully paralyzed myself I would have received no sympathy from the fishermen that randomly relocated themselves along the beach – Corey was quick to point out that as haole’s we would be smart not to make the old men mad and so we did our best to stay out their way, going as far as to leave the beach when I walked right into a line. Oops.

It was a good day ended by having dinner with Tamara and Hannah and followed by the consumption of the biggest shaved ice I have ever seen – it took all four of us to even come close to finishing it. Since we were still unused to the time difference and the girls both had school and work the next day, we all went home pretty early and I appreciated sleeping on a decent bed that allowed for my neck to miraculously heal itself after my attempt to bend myself in half earlier in the day.

So I Went To Hawaii

After a wonderful week, I arrived back at Salt Lake International first thing on Thursday morning. And then went straight to work. And then cried at my desk a little because I was back in Utah (Note: I do so wish I were kidding). Although it was a rough day, it speaks volumes about the good time I had on vacation this past week in Laie. I’m going to have to break up my stories by day because it just seems like there is a lot to tell and I am no good at being brief in the first place. The story of me going to Hawaii is this: after very little planning and a few changes in dates, Corey and I bought tickets to Oahu in hopes to stave off some of the winter depression that hits right about this time of year. And yes, I know it isn’t winter yet, but fall is simply a precursor to the worst 5 months of the year and that is just something that is unacceptable thankyouverymuch.

What I Dream About

I have had a series of really unfortunate dreams lately. Not the kind that leave me shaken or unnerved throughout the day, but the kind that make me wonder what in the hell my subconscious is worried about.

For example, after watching pieces of the presidential debate on Tuesday, I woke the next morning with the distinct feeling that I had really made Obama mad while I mediated an economic agreement between McCain and Bernacke. Now bear in mind, I don't really fully understand the ramifications of economic policy on strongholding, but in my mind I was opinionated enough to alienate a candidate. Never fear though, I spent the remainder of my sleeping hours trying to make it up to Barack by telling him about the screenplay I had written.

Worse that this, though, is the dream I had last night in which I spent a full night and day running around Manhattan trying to find Sara so that I could give her a road bike to take on her honeymoon. Because, you know, she had found someone she wanted to marry and was going to elope without actually telling me about it. Now Sara, don't get mad - I just really wanted you to know that I would bring you a bike before your wedding.

So here's the problem with these stupid little dreams that I remember so vividly every morning: I have a hard time determining what has actually happened in the real-person world and what I have only summoned in my head. Post-debate, I spent the day on edge with the feeling that I was going to have to explain my ill-conceived stimulus package to the American public because the current leaders of the country had been hurt by my non-partisan leanings. Similarly, I woke this morning wondering if I had missed what was sure to have been a good wedding and if I had hurt Sara's feelings by not providing a bike (it could have been new, borrowed, and blue!) on a really important day.

In short, I have no grasp on reality. But I might be able to write a screenplay.